Playground
by FloatingCloudBadger
Summary: Clara's life as a school teacher isn't just killing time between adventures with the Doctor, and she wouldn't be without either. But events start to make Clara question what she misses when she chooses to run away - from either part of her life.
1. Chapter 1

Clara shut her car door firmly, slinging her bag full of lesson plans and books over her shoulder and surveying the playground. It looked pretty quiet today, thankfully. Some of the week had been murder. The Year Nine girls had decided to have a falling out and Clara had kept finding crying girls in the loos and the staircases and the empty classrooms. It wasn't an aspect of her work that she disliked by a long way, but it had been tiring to hear the same story that many times – especially since it changed a little bit every time she heard it. Bloody hell, it was hard to keep up with.

She spotted a few of the girls who had been involved as she walked through the playground into the main building. They seemed fine now. Thankfully, whatever the problem had actually been seemed to have been forgotten. Clara only hoped that the peace would last.

A Year Eight held the main door open for her before he came through, earning a grateful smile from Clara. "Thank you, Thomas," she said brightly and continued to make her way through. She should be just about on time for the staff morning meeting. Maybe she should get a move on. She checked her watch. Yes, she should definitely get a move on.

She half-jogged the rest of the way down the corridor to the staff meeting, thankfully meeting no pupils as she did so. And as she came through the staff room door - thank God! Adrian was indeed stalling for her. Today was going well.

"I quite like the old biscuits, myself," he was saying to Mrs Allen as Clara slipped into the vacant seat beside him that had obviously been set by for her. She wasn't actually that late. And Mrs Allen did seem to be enjoying her and Adrian's biscuit conversation. So, every cloud.

Adrian gave Clara a half-serious disapproving look. Clara rather thought he should have given up with the looks by this point. He had been giving them to her almost every day since Clara had started. Well, time keeping had never been her strong point. Especially in the mornings, when she had to navigate straightening hair and choosing clothes and eating breakfast and finding homework. So little had changed from her own school days, she thought wryly.

Still, the meeting was uneventful in any case. It always was. She didn't really need to hurry to try and be on time for it. Maybe she should remember that tomorrow morning.

Lost in her thoughts, she approached her classroom to teach the first lesson of the day. Students were in the corridors now, chatting and laughing on their way on their way to lessons. School corridors were nicer with that level of teenage noise buzzing around. As long as it didn't get to deafening levels, anyway.

"Hi Miss!"

She looked around. Sophie White had bobbed into step with her, beaming up at Clara, who smiled back. She liked Sophie; she was by far one of the more amicable ones, and a solid English student to boot. Besides, she wasn't hysterical like some others tended to be.

"Good morning," Clara replied cheerfully. "You're in a good mood today."

Sophie laughed. "I'm looking forward to English, Miss, that's why," she joked, with a grin up at Clara. "Highlight of my day. Highlight of my year."

She looked up at Clara for approval, as so many students did after making a joke. It was quite touching. The level of responsibility that she had over these teenagers… it scared her a little bit sometimes. But Sophie seemed fine, casual and relaxed. Clara didn't think there was much to worry about there. She gave a genuine laugh, rolling her eyes. She actually rather liked Sophie's funny little sense of humour. It made a change from some of the boys' senses of humour anyway. "Thank you deeply, Sophie," she replied, with a little smile of her own. "What a lovely sentiment to start the morning with!"

Sophie grinned, but they had reached the door of the classroom now, and other pupils were approaching the door as well. Well, there was nothing to be done about that. Sophie looked ever so slightly put out, though. A bit puzzled, Clara gave her another smile as they entered the classroom. She probably just liked attention from an adult, that was all. Maybe she had a new sibling or something.

Clara was just turning to write something on the board when she felt a small body almost collide with hers and cling tight. Hang on, what was happening? That was odd. Taken aback and slightly off balance, Clara gave the girl a very quick squeeze and a pat on the back. She was also very aware that other students were starting to come into the classroom – she wasn't really allowed to hug students and the last thing she wanted was a lecture on boundaries when Sophie hadn't given her much of a choice.

Thankfully, Sophie seemed aware of the other students too and she let go quite quickly, blushing for some reason. Her small, flushed face gave Clara a quick smile before she joined the crowd of her class and prepared for the lesson (well, prepared as much as any student ever did really).

Clara shook her head slightly. The sudden hug had thrown her a bit. She wasn't uncomfortable with it or anything, just a bit mystified as to why Sophie had suddenly done it. Still, Sophie tended to be quite an affectionate person from what Clara had picked up. She felt pretty sure as well that Sophie liked her and her subject, especially recently.

Putting it out of her mind, she turned back around to the whiteboard again and started writing. But just as she finished writing, a noise from the store cupboard caught her attention, and she couldn't help but smile at the metallic thrumming. Not brilliant timing, but when was it ever? "I'll be back in a minute, everyone," she said loudly, over the noise of a classroom full of conversations. "Open your books and read quietly to yourselves, please!"


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

**A/N – thank you so much for the reviews! They've really persuaded me to pick up my pen again. The past few months have been hard but writing is a part of me and I'm so happy to be picking it back up again.**

Well, that had been one of the messier trips. It wouldn't normally be a problem – but the Doctor had helpfully dropped her back exactly where they had come from. Trust him to pick _this_ time to calculate his timings correctly. How on earth was she going to explain to her class of Year Nines why she was covered in Slitheen blood? Come to think of it, how was she going to explain what a Slitheen was?

She sighed exasperatedly, quickly pulling her jumper over her head. She might be cold in just her blouse but it was better than having bizarre stains all over her. The skirt was going to be a problem though. She had spare clothes in her car, she always did… but how on earth was she going to get out there? The window wasn't an option – whilst whoever built the school clearly had known nothing about heating, they had at least had the sense to not make the windows possible to climb in or out of.

Right. She was panicking. Maybe if she took her cardigan off? That would leave the top half of her body a bit cleaner. But it was still going to be blindingly obvious! And no doubt a prime subject of gossip. Well, she wouldn't even blame the kids for gossiping about this. If one of her teachers had gone into a cupboard and come out covered in red goo…

Why did it have to be _this time_ that the Doctor was "in a rush" and just chucked her out into a cupboard? That man. Infuriating. She half suspected that this was part of his anti-Danny agenda.

Suddenly, there was a small knock on the door. Oh god. Her normally clear and calm voice shrank back into her, as she quickly whipped off her cardigan and tied it around her waist – because of course that wasn't going to help. Oh, bloody hell! That was a trick they used to use at school when someone's period had casually started without warning. And also the reason why she never told girls off for having jumpers around their waist.

The knock sounded again. This couldn't be good. Tossing her hair back and pulling on that smile, she leaned casually against the doorway as she opened the cupboard door.

Sophie. Oh, thank the Lord.

She gave a genuine smile as the girl looked up at her, a bit worried. "Everything alright, Sophie?" she asked, her relief unfortunately evident in her voice. "I'm just grabbing some textbooks for the lesson."

And then, to her great surprise, Sophie smirked and quirked an eyebrow at her. That couldn't be good. She kept the smile on her face as she braced herself for what was coming. She didn't know Sophie very well as she did some students, but she knew that the face staring at her was Sophie's amused face. What had she done to be the centre of amusement this time? Last time it had been a very masculine sneeze. What was it this time?

Seeming like she was holding back laughter, Sophie finally spoke. "Miss," she said, deeply amused but fairly good-naturedly. "Miss, you've been in there for half an hour. Everyone's buggered off except me and Snuggy."

Snuggy was the class hamster. Today was not a good day.

Clara sighed, letting the smile drop. What was she supposed to say to Sophie to possibly explain this? She was blushing, flustered, and it only increased when she saw Sophie clock onto the goo all over her. "Wait, what… what is all that?" she asked, the smirk disappearing. "Miss, are you OK? Are you… you're not hurt, are you? Miss?"

She was shaking her head as soon as Sophie started to speak worriedly. "Honestly, Sophie, I'm fine," she said reassuringly. "It's… it's paint. There were art materials left in here, not sure why, probably Miss Parker again, she does like to make English arty. I'll have to speak to her. Where – um, where are the rest of the class?"

She was gabbling. It wasn't helping the situation. Sophie frowned deeper. "I think to the newsagent," she said, her mind clearly elsewhere. "To buy sweets before Maths. Miss, can I help?" The last question was added on as soon as Sophie answered Clara's question – clearly this was what was really on her mind. Bless her. Sophie was one of the kind ones.

"You could do me a big favour, actually, Sophie," she said tiredly. "I'm going to run to my car to grab some fresh clothes – could you try and round a few people up? Just so the class isn't completely empty…" She sighed deeply. Checking her watch, there was barely any of the lesson less. But it would be nice to salvage something, anything from this mess.

Sophie nodded quickly. "Of course, Miss. Don't worry." And with that, she sped off, leaving Clara still leaning exhaustedly in the doorway. Honestly, sometimes she felt like the kids were babysitting her. And she was going to bloody kill that stick insect of a Time Lord.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - trigger warning self harm.**

Crying.

It was a distinctive sound to Clara all right, with all the teenage girls around. She could never quite be the one who just let it go and walked on by when she heard that sound. For every two-week romance that's ended unexpectedly and every friendship that's broken in two, there was a real problem or someone really hurt. And anyway, it was all too easy to dismiss the broken friendships and romances, but Clara always felt that if someone was upset enough to be sobbing in the girls' toilets, they deserved at least an offer of help.

Still, she pushed the heavy wooden door somewhat wearily. It had been a long morning – well, a long morning plus the three days that she had spent in the Tardis. Getting cleaned off had hardly been fun either. At least it had only been sweet Sophie who had seen her. Some of the kids (Courtney sprung to mind) wouldn't have been tactful about the whole thing.

Whoever was sobbing seemed to try and stifle it a bit as they heard the door open. If anything, that was concerning. This wasn't something flamboyant or hysterical. Plus, the girl was alone – there were no comforting voices or gaggles of sympathetic eyes. Clara felt the drive in her rise up as concern started to fill up in her.

She chapped gently on the door of the only locked stall, where two small feet were just visible. "Hello?" she called out softly. "It's Miss Oswald, from English. Is everything OK?"

There was a long silence, only punctuated with heavily stifled gasps and snuffles. For a moment Clara thought there was going to be no answer, but finally the girl quietly managed to call out, "I'm OK."

Was that…? That sounded like Sophie. Panic rose up further. Sophie wasn't the kind of girl to be doing this flippantly. Something was going on, and Clara was fairly sure that Sophie wasn't OK at all.

She pushed gently at the stall door but Sophie had locked it. Despite what seemed to be her best efforts, sobs were still punctuating the silence. Something had to have happened. This couldn't just be a triviality.

"Please let me in, Sophie," said Clara, keeping her voice soft and calm despite her worry. It wasn't going to help to panic Sophie anymore. The thought niggled at her that she was taking her job too far, or getting more involved than she should be. But Sophie was hurt. That was the situation, Clara was sure of it. And she wasn't about to let that happen.

There was another long silence, Clara waiting anxiously at the door, watching the tips of Sophie's shoes for movement. And finally, like a miracle, there was a click and the door slowly swung open.

Sophie stared out at Clara, dabbing at tears that were still falling. She was shaking violently and chalk white, but her gaze stayed steady, unmoving, looking desperately at Clara for a response. Her voice caught in her throat, Clara finally crouched down in front of the girl to reach her where she sat on the bathroom floor. Her heart was pounding. This was not what she had expected.

Blood was slowly dripping from cuts all down Sophie's arm. None of them looked too deep, but there was no way they could have happened accidentally. To complete the picture, a razor blade lay on the bathroom floor in a little puddle of blood. Things couldn't be more obvious, but still Clara was struggling to wrap her mind around it.

"Do you want to tell me what's happened, Sophie?" she asked hoarsely.

Sophie swallowed hard and finally moved her gaze to stare ashamedly at the floor. "I'm really sorry," she breathed out at last, only just loud enough for Clara to hear. As she spoke, she dragged her arm back to clutch it in at her waist. Clara noticed Sophie's jumper balled up in a corner of the cubicle. It suddenly dawned on her why Sophie always kept her jumper on, even in the summer. It was to hide the wounds, the blood now smeared across her shirt.

Clara shook her head. "There's no need to say sorry," she said, again in that gentle voice, again trying not to spook her. "I just want to know what happened."

Though, of course, she knew what had happened. Or thought she did, at least. She tried to keep her eyes off of the gashes on Sophie's arm but her eyes kept flicking back. The poor girl… why did she feel this was her only option? And why hadn't anyone realised? Clara included. Clara definitely included. That arm, it was bloody covered in scars. How did Clara not know what this sweet young girl was doing this to herself?

"I hate myself."

Sophie's voice came half-mixed with a sob, but what she had said was unmistakable. Clara had to close her eyes for a second. She couldn't deal with this. Why had no one mentioned this in induction? The crying Year Nines had been bad enough, but this…

She took a deep breath. "How about we go and get you cleaned up?" she asked. Best to deal with the practicals first. "We could get you up to the nurse, or – or I'm First Aid trained. We can just go along to my classroom and have a chat if you like."

Now staring at the wall of the toilet, Sophie seemed to be holding back a wealth of emotion. She just stared for a minute seemingly unable to do anything else, but finally slowly brought her eyes down to Clara's shoes, and nodded. Clara nearly sighed in relief. Something. She had achieved something.

She got to her feet, creaking a bit. God, she wasn't a kid anymore, was she? She was the adult here. Quickly trying to brush this thought aside, she offered a hand to Sophie, who stared at it for a minute, but then clutched at it gratefully and pulled herself up, holding tight to Clara's hand for just a second too long.

Sophie pulled her jumper back on in silence, a couple of paper towels covering the cuts, still seeming shaky and – what was that, exactly? – almost frightened? She tugged the sleeves down so that they covered her whole arm. She was experienced at this, from the look of it. But that wasn't a thought Clara wanted to dwell on either. She was here, now, and she could help Sophie. That was what she needed to focus on. Not what she hadn't thought of, brought up, noticed.

They walked along the corridor in silence. Thankfully, it was a warm day for autumn, and most of the students were on the field (or snogging behind the bike sheds, no doubt). Anyway, there was nothing especially conspicuous about Clara and Sophie walking together to her classroom. Was there? Come to think of it, students didn't tend to come into her classroom during lunchtimes. But it wasn't unheard of. Anyway, it didn't really matter. No one was around anyway.

Clara was so engrossed in her thoughts that she barely noticed Sophie's little mumble beside her. Clicking back to the present, Clara looked up to see Sophie run to the bin just outside one of the doors leading to the mercifully empty courtyard. She flinched; teenagers vomiting everywhere wasn't an aspect of teaching she had gotten used to yet. Even after the traumatic incident where Chloe Nicholls had managed to accidentally puke right into Clara's lap. God. That had not been a fun lesson.

She tentatively followed Sophie over and gave her back a little rub. The poor kid was shaking like anything now. Was she… was she that _scared_? So scared that she was spewing up her lunch in the Maths courtyard. Clara just wanted to wrap Sophie up in a blanket and take her home. This wasn't right. It shouldn't be like this. She was just a kid.

Clara took a deep breath in, trying to settle her own fluttering heart as Sophie finally managed to stop throwing up, Clara's hand still resting on her back protectively. A few long seconds passed, as the courtyard thankfully remained deserted. Finally, Sophie started to straighten up, moving backwards from the bin. Reaching quickly into her pocket, Clara stuck out a tissue in Sophie's direction. With a faint and inaudible but hopefully positive mumble, Sophie took it and wiped her mouth, and – Clara's heart gave a pang again – forcefully scrubbing the tears from her eyes. Tentatively, Clara touched Sophie's shoulder, trying to guide her back into the building, back towards Clara's classroom. Back towards something with a semblance of normality.

Finally they reached the classroom. Now Clara was back in her own territory at least. Her high heels clipping on the lino, she walked quickly over to the corner to retrieve the First Aid box and a plastic cup which she filled with water. Sophie stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, looking like she didn't know exactly what to do with herself. It was a response that Clara could relate to right now.

She set the First Aid box and the cup on one of the desks and gestured to Sophie to take a seat across from her. Trying to be tactful about it, Clara also nudged the classroom bin to within Sophie's reach. Having to clear up sick was not going to make today any better. Everything was set up, everything was in place – but now what?

She nudged the cup towards Sophie. "Have some water," Clara suggested, still speaking extra gently. "It'll help."

Sophie nodded listlessly and lifted the cup to her lips, taking a deep draught of water. There was a long silence, as Sophie stared at her lap and Clara tried not to stare at Sophie. How was she going to broach this subject? How was she supposed to know what the right question to ask first was?

"Can I see your arm, Sophie?" she asked at last.


End file.
